


Dean's Hounds

by StarHuntress108



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alastair Being an Asshole, Hellhounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarHuntress108/pseuds/StarHuntress108
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a picture on a FaceBook page. I'm new to the AO3 platform</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean's Hounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy my first AO3 story

His memories of Hell were painful at best. Fogged in some areas, clear as ice melt water the next. He doesn’t remember much of his years as Alastair’s top torturer. But he remembers Them. The glow of their blood red eyes. The stench of their fur. Their growls and snarls. Their perfection. The greatest tool in his arsenal of torturing devices.  
  
The Hellhounds, shapeless back home but various in shape in Hell. Each to its own, with individual mindsets and traits, like their Earthly counterparts. The ones Sam loved with a passion. Dean wondered what Sam would have thought of the Hounds, of their bloodlust. Of their perfection in killing.  
When Crowley had hidden the First Blade and they had been ambushed by the Hound, Dean knew the growl and bark. He would know one of his Hounds anywhere. When Crowley had said female pronouns and her name, Dean knew which one of his had been used to guard. And he couldn’t help the flash of pride and disgust.  
  
“So when we were attacked in that town by Meg and those Hellhounds, she said they were your favourite. What did she mean by that?” Sam had once asked, his eyes accusing and clearly soul-less. Dean had shrugged him off, saying that she was probably trying to trigger the fear of being taken back to Hell or something. Lies. All of it.  
  
~Flashback~  
  
“Who’s Daddy’s good girl? Who did her best today?” Dean cooed at the Doberman shaped Hound that trotted next to him back to the kennels. The Hound barked happily, her smoky tail wagging slightly. Juliet was one of his finest, the perfect combination between Guardian and Retriever. Her skills honed as they tortured souls together. Her eyes of the brightest glowing coals, her muscles bulky but elegant. If he couldn’t have his Impala to pamper and perfect, he may as well spoil his loyal friend.  
  
“It’s high time she be paired up, Winchester. We need more like her.” Alastair scowled, watching as Dean placed a second helping of flesh into her bowl.  
  
“I’ve already selected for when she is older. Romeo of Itchen’s brood is the best choice since he is Killer and Tracker trained. And I have informed the breeding houses of this.” Dean snapped back, his dark eyes watching as Juliet devoured the flesh and sat back to watch her Master. “Just be sure the rest of your ‘pets’ are at her level as well. Hate to send you back to the Rack.” Alastair’s voice grated on his skin as he walked away. Dean knelt down and stroked Juliet’s head through the bars of her cage.  
  
“Seems even here I don’t get a moment’s peace.” He muttered before standing up. He spent the next four hours training his other three Hounds. Blight was a dedicated Killer, usually sent with the Pack to land the killing blows on those who had their Contracts ending. His twin sister, Lore, with her strong nose and eyes, usually joined him and lead the Pack. Bael was much like Romeo in the looks department though he was a dedicated Retriever, sent to haul the souls away from their dead bodies. Retrievers were the hardest to maintain as all Hounds have the need to destroy and tainted the light of the soul yet Bael had yet to even try since Dean allowed him to snap and destroy the souls already on the Rack just like Juliet.  
  
But all ‘good’ things must end. Bael had snapped at Alastair when he had tried to take the soul off the Hound earlier than Bael was used to. And Dean had paid the price. Strung up once more, numb to everything but the pain. Even his own screams had become muted as the knives and hooks had dug deeper. But a flash of blinding light and suddenly he was thrown back into his old body, in complete darkness. He had panicked for a moment before instinct kicked in and he escaped what he realised was his grave. Sam hadn’t burnt him. Left his body as ashes so he couldn’t return as a spirit.  
  
And it had pissed him off to no end. Until he met Castiel and suddenly the light had made sense. From then on he hid the memories he could recall and the ones that faintly echoed within his mind. And he took his hatred for his time in Hell out on the one thing that instantly reminded him of his ‘pets’. Sam couldn’t understand Dean’s hatred of innocent dogs who would only just wag their tails and he’d be chasing them off. But Sam also didn’t understand what Dean had seen. Had trained. He hadn’t met Juliet, who loved to go for walks. Hadn’t spent time running with Lore and he definitely had never sparred with Blight.  
  
“His name is Colonel. He is our only witness to the two murders.” Sam had explained, the brown eyed German Shepherd sitting at his feet when Dean had returned from buying food. And when Sam suggested a mind meld, Dean was even more put off. But Colonel had seen some horrific things and if Sam’s heartstrings got tugged, they’d have to keep him. So Dean drank down the brew they had gotten off Kevin and braced for the worst.  
  
But nothing could prepare him for the calm that Colonel radiated. No bloodlust. No need to go hunting. Just a need to know what happened to the master he was loyal to. A friend who had been taken. And the longer Dean spent with his mind shared, the more he realised why Sam loved dogs. The Yorkie who begged for belly rubs was weird but the Dalmatian with the floppy ear who was once a firefighter’s companion until he didn’t come home one Summer just wanted to feel useful again.  
  
“I didn’t mean to bite him. But he hurt me. He really hurt me.” Wept a Great Dane, whose tail hung crooked, obviously broken. Colonel explained that he had belonged to a family whose youngest son was abusive to all the animals and the Dane, named Boeing, had snapped when the child had broken his tail.  
  
“Humans are scumbags.” “But some dogs are just rotten to the core.” Dean and Colonel had talked much whilst Sam had slept, Dean’s nightmares still sometimes keeping him up. But a cold nose to the cheek and a soft whine would wake him from the darkness within his own mind to soft fur that didn’t care if he clung to it until he could breathe again. No wonder they used dogs for PTSD victims. If they weren’t always on the road, maybe…. Maybe Dean would get a dog for him and Sam. A big one, like Colonel, so it could protect them during their hunts. Maybe a rescue so ones like Boeing and the Dalmatian named Ash could be loved and feel useful.  
  
If only.....

 

**Author's Note:**

> As I said before, I am new here and still working out chapter sizing. This will be a multi chapter story as I am playing around with this idea. I will also be transferring some of my other works from FanFiction so please stay tuned


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